Shake a Leg, Radar!
by Gamerwhogames
Summary: It's Founding Day's Eve, and Radar's ready to help Jesse prepare the town! Except for one minor detail: Struck with a debilitating head-cold, Jesse is completely out of the picture, leaving his frazzled intern at the mercy of one busy town. Can Radar get everything done before the big day? Only one way to find out, of course. Read it!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! It's me, the Gamerwhogames! And I am happy to announce my first Season-2-related work of fanfiction: "Shake a Leg, Radar!". If you're in the majority of the fandom, you too took an instant liking to the bubbly, excitable and adorable personality of Jesse's intern, Radar. By episode two, I was a bit upset I hadn't upped my game and wrote about him sooner. In fact, I need to get back to writing about these guys in general, because if I don't, who knows where I'll be mentally? With all these rules and regulations of writing, my demon of perfectionism is really rearing its head, you could say. But it's time to fight! It's time to write! It's the right thing to do. (See what I did there? No? Um… okay, then.)**

 **HIT IT, CRISPER!**

 **Crisper: (jolts awake and hits it)**

* * *

Radar quietly closed Jesse's door and bit his tongue all the way downstairs and out the door. Once he was outside, sure he was out of the earshot of his mentor and idol, he let out his bottled-up fury on himself. "Why am I such an idiot?!" He shouted skyward as he curtly marched down the cobble patio and out to the street. He strode through a flurry of rainbow-colored parrots and through the red-gates of the lively city of Beacontown. The frightened birds made a ruckus as they rushed to the clouds where the midday sun hung. It was a little past noon, which left the frazzled intern plenty of time to take care of the Founding-Day duties, but he felt like he was in a time-crunch for his life.

It had all gone wrong earlier that morning. He'd woken up right on time, bright and ready for the busy day he'd anticipated all night. Jesse? Not so. He was slow to rise, and even slower to open his heavy lids, actually sitting up in bed, eyes shut like a lifeless doll. Radar had been worried, but decided not to let it bother him into rushing his boss out of bed. "I'll be up in a few minutes," Jesse had said. And, like they always did, "a few minutes" turned into an "hour behind schedule" before Jesse delivered the shattering news. "I think I have a head-cold. I can't even get out of bed." His nasally voice confirmed said shattering news. The night before, Radar didn't make sure he was in bed by 7:00 for nothing: The eve of Founding Day was supposed to be the busiest day of the year, full of preparations, building and cooking. Preparations, building and cooking that were meant to be supervised by Jesse, Hero in Residence, not Jesse With a Head Cold. And now all was lost. _Almost…._

"And I just _had_ to suggest taking care of everything on my own. Just _had_ to! Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?" He rambled to himself, oblivious to the uneasy stares the other civilians gave him. He stopped near the centerpiece of the city: an oversized rendition of the Order Amulet, complete with glowing beacons that added flair to the whole city. He sighed, already worn out by the fretful morning, and pulled out the reddish-brown to-do book. "Alright, let's see what we've got today," he thumbed a few pages until it was current with the date and skimmed over the neat list with his black eyes. But when he read, someone tapped his shoulder and he spun around with a holler, startling Nell who tapped him. "Oh! It's just you." He blushed slightly as he readjusted his black specs.

"Sorry, brah. I, like, didn't mean to scare you, yah know? It was just a tap." She apologized with a lulled head and an easy grin.

"I am very well aware of that." He muttered to himself, annoyed with himself for being so easily scared. "Did you need anything?" He closed his book and put it under his arm and gave her a polite, attentive grin.

"Yeah. Like, where's Jesse? I wanted him to do me a colossal favor."

"Jesse is at home sick today." He said tersely, causing the blonde-haired surfer-girl to flinch.

"Wait, Jesse's… sick?" Her pale-faced words caused a reaction in the crowd, and almost the entire town began to encircle Radar, tempting him to hide behind his book. All around him he only saw worried eyes probing him for information and worried mouths beginning to speak out.

"Is he sick?" One asked.

"Someone must have poisoned him or something! I'm sure of it!" Another accused. Radar put on a brave face to mask his queasy insides and stepped on top of the monument so that he was a head higher than the crowd.

"Everyone, calm down, please!" His strong, brave voice was embarrassingly small and squeaky, and he had mixed feelings about everyone hearing it. But at least they quieted down for him to speak.

"GPS! What do you know about Jesse?" One man called.

"Um, a-actually, my name's Radar. And, um, Jesse is lying down at his house because he's sick—not feeling well, and he's lying down." He rushed through his sentence, taking a moment afterwards to note that repeated lying down twice and internally scold himself for using 'sick' and 'not feeling well' in the same sentence as if they were different.

"Could you speak up, please?" A random woman asked.

Radar quickly spotted her in the crowd and wished she wasn't there. He quickly tried to lick around his dry, sticky mouth before he spoke again, louder this time. "Jesse's not feeling well, and he's at home lying down." A gasp went up from the crowd that shook Radar and left him feeling lightheaded. What had he done wrong?

"You mean Jesse's going to die?"

"Die?! Of course, he's not going to—"

"So, our hero Jesse's dying and you're _just now_ telling us?!" Another accused, jabbing a finger at Radar as he walked closer to where he stood.

"But Jesse's not dying!" Radar shouted as quickly as he possibly could. "Guys, he just has a cold, okay? He'll be fine in a little bit, I promise!" He added when he'd regained their attention and sanity. He sighed when they seemed to calm down.

"Well, who's going to help us with Founding Day, then? There's so much to get done."

"I'll be helping you guys today." He admitted and tried to look and sound more confident than he felt, and the butterflies in his stomach rested when they didn't seem angry with him. He'd felt almost guilty telling them he'd be helping them out, knowing how much they wanted Jesse himself to be there, not his intern. He sighed with relief when the crowd, knowing their hero would live to see sunrise, began to disperse, except for the one man who pointed at him. He marched up to him with an intimidating glare.

"I hope you're good on promises, buddy." He warned. With that, he turned around and marched off, leaving behind a confused and frightened Radar and a weirded-out Nell.

"I don't think he gets the concept of colds." She said.

"I hope Jesse gets better soon." Radar said worriedly. "Speaking of which, I'm sorry he isn't here to do that big favor for you. But, if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

"Oh, sure, brah. Actually, I was just about to ask you to do it for him."

"Oh! Okay. What do you need help with?"

"Come on. It's back at my place."

Radar followed her back to her house, a small, cozy residence of blue cotton and oak-planks, a combination that intrigued Radar. On the sand next to her residence was a platform of polished andesite and the same colored cotton. "So, like, I thought it'd be a good time to settle down for life, you know? Take a break from all the adventures and stuff, so I thought, why not land here?"

Radar nodded and she continued.

"But, I'm," she quieted her voice some and Radar leaned in slightly, "I'm kinda worried that I won't, like, fit in here." She glanced around with a sad envy at the many buildings and monuments around her. "So many rad builds, awesome people… I really wanna make, like, a good first impression, you know? Which I thought might be helped if my front lawn had a statue by the one and only Jesse. But, since he's not here, I was hoping _you'd_ be willing to do it. Like, I know, you're not Jesse. But, since you're his intern, like, I figured that makes you pretty close."

"Well, um, that's certainly reassuring." Radar muttered with a nervous smile, unsure of what to say.

"Great! This is gonna be so cool!" She yelled with a strong fist-pump. "Scoop up that clay over there and let's get to business!"

Suddenly, Radar felt like a prisoner on death row as he promptly made his way to the pile of colored clay. Nell wanted a statue from Jesse himself to help her fit in, have friends and a life here, and all of it was suddenly dangling on his fists, not an inherently safe place in his opinion. Years upon years of organization, boundaries and straight lines had hindered most of his artistic skills, if they were ever there in the first place. Building on the fly just wasn't one of his skills. He finished salvaging the clay and reluctantly walked to the platform, sure he was just about to crush a certain surfer's dreams of acceptance.

 _C'mon, Radar, think… WWJD?_ His eyes alternated between the clay blocks in his hands and the blank platform. Blank paper was scary enough. The more he hesitated, the more sensitive he became to Nell's anticipated stare.

"Well, any second, dude. Whenever you're ready." She encouraged, though it felt like a kindhearted death-threat to Radar. Ideas were beginning to fly into his head like little birds, but he slung them down with stones of doubt as soon as he saw them. They were too lame, too generic, too extreme or too whatever-he-thought to be a statue for Nell. Speaking of which, when he happened to glance back at him, she was waiting patiently with a big smile. "Got any ideas?"

"Um… about that, I…." He hesitated to tell her the truth. He glanced at the platform, the clay in his hands, and then her. How could he fail this request, his first one of the day? He couldn't, and he swore he wouldn't. "I think I've got an idea." And what he built with his two hands was the greatest statue in Beacontown that ever stood.

If it didn't look like the Witherstorm grew a foot and stepped on it.

As Radar stood back and looked over his work with not-so-proud owner Nell, he felt sweat prickling the back of his neck, along with disappointment. "I mean, like… at least you tried." She said. She felt worried when Radar sighed through his nose. "It's alright, dude! That's not what I meant. It's a great flamingo."

"It's supposed to be a pig." He said quietly. His "statue" of Reuben seemed way better in his head than it did in reality. "I'm sorry. I'll try to remind Jesse to come and help you out." He forced a smile when he looked at her, and she smiled back.

"It's cool, man. Well, I guess I shouldn't keep you here any longer, since you've got so much stuff left to do." She said, making him flinch.

"Oh! You're right. I should probably get going." He started to rush off.

"Hey, wait up!" She called after him, making him stop. "Don't stress out, brah. Just chillax, and everything should go fine, alright?"

"Alright." He nodded, even though he didn't agree with her. He could tell from experience that chillaxing and not-stressing out did nothing to change the mind of Fate as far as his plans were concerned. The only relaxing he'd be doing was in bed at night when everything (and everything) was taken care of. She patted his back before pulling him into a certainly unexpected hug that ripped him out of his thoughts. He stammered a bit, standing awkwardly straight as she squeezed his torso and patted his back. He quickly returned her hug, trying not to seem rude. They came apart a few seconds later. "Well, I'll see you later, hopefully."

"Totally! Break a leg, Radar!" She called after him as he rushed off.

"Um, thanks!" He shouted behind himself, even though he didn't agree with her on that one, either. Something about 'break a leg' always unsettled him. As far as legs went, he preferred to shake them.

* * *

 **Hey, guys! I hope you enjoyed chapter one of "Shake a Leg, Radar (SaLR)", and I want to thank you for reading!**

 **But I also want to give you a heads-up: I won't be doing a play-by-play of episode 1's canon. I'm going to be adding to canonical events, and then tacking on totally new events that weren't even in the episode. I want to keep this interesting for you guys! There's going to be a Slime Accident! Wo00oo0o0. I think Stirpicus did a great job writing Radar, and I'm so glad to have someone in the game I can relate with on more levels than one. (here's a hint: It rhymes with messing trout, Xd) Well, goodnight, Continents! Close it, Crisper!**

 **Crisper: (closes it)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope you guys are just excited about reading about Radar's adventures as I am about writing about them (so many 'abouts', though). Today, our little ball of sunshine and color is going to get his hands a bit messy helping around the city. His goal: Have a productive day. The universe's goal? Anything but that. Can he handle it?**

 **REVIEWS! Eight of them already? You guys, this is awesome!**

 **EmLee: Glad you're so pumped about this, and that you like my other stories! I hope to get to more of them soon, but for now, I know you'll enjoy this~!**

 **Raintag: Yes, we do. And I hope to be a great provider!**

 **KrazyKat: YAAAAAAAAAY! (Did you know that YAAAAAAAAAY spelled backwards is YAAAAAAAAAY? Nevertheless, I'm so glad you're excited!)**

 **Alice Forshadow: You liked the crowd scene? That was pretty fun for me to write, and I was afraid people wouldn't like it. But, gladly, I was wrong! Also, as I mentioned before, writing Radar is pretty easy for me since I can relate to him in many ways, so expect some hilarious realism!**

 **A Random Guest: It's good to know that you liked the WWJD. I cracked up so hard when I first had the idea, and I just HAD to put it in!**

 **Princess of Muffins: Great! I hope you enjoy the rest!**

 **Miragold123: Wait no longer, for chapter two hath arrived! But speaking of 'wait no longer', who else is pumped about episode three coming out this Tuesday? I know I am!**

 **Toni42: I'm sure he'll do fine, as long as he's got that to-do book of his. Also, thank you for reviewing! I really love Movie-Mode, and see you as one of MCSM's famous writers, so I'm glad you decided to visit my little corner of the Internet.**

 **Well, let's get onto the story! Hit it, Crisper!**

 **Crisper: LET'Z DO THIS! (hits it)**

* * *

Radar walked through the city, one side of him wanting to help whoever needed it, and the other, of course, being too shy to ask. He walked over to a red and white booth, the cake booth he assumed, and pulled out his book to see what he needed to do next.

"Um… hey," came a quiet, strained voice from behind him. Radar flinched and turned around and saw a tearstained face and sorrowful eyes staring back at him.

"Oh my gosh. Um, are you okay?"

"Wow," the woman sniffled, wiping a tear from her eyes. "Even through your moments of loss, you're still so caring of others, when you should be caring about yourself." She said, wiping her wet hand on her blue-jean shorts.

"Um… I don't understand…?"

"Of course, you don't. I don't understand why these kinds of things happen to such good, caring people, either." She managed before she broke into tears. Radar eyed her for a few moments with growing confusion, unsure of how to respond to the weeping woman. She suddenly threw herself at him, nearly knocking him clean off his feet as she wept onto his chest, staining his green shirt with her many tears. He fought to keep his balance, managing to lean on a nearby fence-post. Heat and embarrassment crawled into his cheeks when he happened to glance around and see the growing sets of eyes on him.

"Um, ma'am? I'm not sure I—" She loudly shushed him, placing a finger over his mouth while she hid her face in his warm chest.

"There's no need to speak. I can already feel your pain and sorrow." She whimpered before shaking with sobs. "It's in here." She added, softly patting the left side of his chest.

"Pain and sorrow? I don't think I know what you're talking about." He squeaked, having a harder time breathing with her arms so tightly clasped around him. When she finally loosened to break the hug, he breathed in and sighed out, his ribs slightly cracking as he did. For a woman of her size, she had lethally muscular arms, very well hidden by their feminine smoothness.

"There's no need to deny it. Everyone feels pain and sorrow, but if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. Just know I'll always be here for you."

"Um… I _do_ want to talk about it, but first I'd like to ask a question—"

"Yes! Anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable." She blubbered with pleading eyes.

"Why would I be having pain and sorrow?" He asked quietly.

"Well," she covered her mouth with a pinky-raised hand, shaking her head and blinking away tears, "It's really a big shock that Jesse's… dying. And with you as his intern… you two must've been so close, and now," she began to weep again, with Radar staring awkwardly with growing unease, "he's being rent away from you! I'm so sorry!" And just like that, he was back in her death-hug. Sorrow? He couldn't feel that. Pain? Now, he could feel that, and very well. And he'd feel it in the morning, too.

"Um, ma'am?" His voice was strained and breathless. "Jesse's… not… dying… he just… has… a head cold." He forced the words out with whatever breath he had as she choked him out like an anaconda. But she didn't hear him over her passionate wails. "Ma'am?" He felt himself running out of air. "Ma'am?" He squeaked in desperation. He managed to wrench an arm from her locked ones and tap her on the shoulder, croaking for her one last time. She looked up and finally let go, eager to hear what ode he had to give for his dying hero. Radar took a few moments to catch his breath, and she watched him patiently, along with the other citizens who had stopped to take a gander. "Jesse's going to be fine. Didn't you hear what I'd said earlier?"

She rubbed her tears with her wrists and looked at him with confusion and disbelief. "What?"

"Jesse just has a head-cold… haven't you had a head-cold before?"

"No. But my grandmother did."

Radar's eyes popped with surprise and his heart caught. He guiltily looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets and regretting his annoyance. "Did she… um… you know… live?" He asked carefully.

"Oh, yeah. She was fine after a week." She replied happily. She reverted back to her solemn frown seconds later. "But what does that have to do with _your_ sorrow?"

"It means that Jesse's going to live." He explained slowly. She looked at her feet and pondered this for a moment. Then it was her eyes' time to pop. She put a hand to her mouth as her cheeks reddened, and a quirky smile squirmed across her face.

"So… all that must've seen out-of-the-blue for you, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Radar grinned bashfully, reaching around to rub his sweaty neck.

"I am _so_ sorry… and embarrassed for that matter. That was really weird!" She commented, loudly enough for the bystanders to hear. "I'm really sorry." She muttered again, casting him a truly apologetic look.

"Um, you know what? It's okay. I mean, sure it was pretty unexpected for me, and everyone else standing here watching us," he muttered the last part, "but, it shows that you care about people. I mean, that's nice. _You're_ nice." He said with a forgiving smile and a small shrug. Her face brightened with a smile, and before Radar could process it, he was back in a death-hug.

"Oh my gosh, thank you! I feel like I'm about to cry again. No one's _ever_ told me that!" She pulled away and their eyes locked for a few seconds. She smiled once more and rushed off, happy tears streaming down her face. Radar smiled softly as she went, but flinched when a loud clap sounded behind him. He spun around to see a group of people staring at him with bleary eyes while the foremost of them slow-clapped, tears streaming down her face.

"That was beautiful." She choked.

Radar fought to put a smile on his face to hide his growing unrest. "Um… thank you…?" He delicately turned around and speedwalked off as non-awkwardly as the universe would allow him. As he rushed, he struggled to process what happened. He was nearly squeezed to death by a sorrowful, small woman with arms like Axel's, and the whole thing was being watched by what he supposed was a book-club composed of single women aching for love. In short, it was already getting off to be an eventful day. If only it could be more productive. He didn't get very far before someone called out his name.

Or tried to.

"Hey, Compass! Uh, that's your name, isn't it?" Radar turned around to pick out his caller from the crowd, his eyes landing on a man wearing a beautiful parka even though it was summery outside.

" My name is 'Radar'." He called out as he walked towards the man.

"Sorry! I always get it confused."

"Everyone gets it confused." Radar said as politely as he could. "So, did you need anything?"

"Yes. Desperately! Come here!" He said, even though he grabbed Radar by the arm and started dragging him along. It wasn't the most civil thing to do, but it was certainly an upgrade from getting squeezed to death. The man took him to the part of the city where people were setting up their colorful booths to sell handmade goods from snacks to weapons. Radar made a mental-note to grab himself something from the cookies booth as he was pulled in front of two booths. "Now, tell me what's wrong." The man said, folding his arms and waiting for Radar to figure out the strikingly obvious dilemma. Radar hummed to himself as he squinted at the booths. One of them had a red and orange theme, and a few workers lifting boxes onto shelves to unload them. The other was blue and white, and he saw a few women hanging up wool shirts and blankets. Behind them, two men hauled in a pink bed. "Do you see it?"

"Um… not exactly?"

In the red and orange booth, one of the men with boxes pulled out a few fireworks before his co-worker walked back over to him to inspect and comment on them, both of them grinning dangerously. Radar looked back at the blue and white booth, still not seeing anything wrong.

"Do you see it now?" He asked with growing impatience.

"No." Radar said again. He looked back at the red and orange booth, where a happy man now donned a flint-and-steel to pair up with a large stick. He struck the flint and steel together, successfully lighting the stick that he waved around proudly, too close to one of the nearby wool-women who screamed and snatched away her goods from the reckless man. "Oh, wait, now I see it."

"Exactly! Year after year, even before Beacontown was founded and Jesse defeated the Witherstorm, the booth for my Wool Maker's Guild has always _coincidentally_ been paired up next to _these_ crazies!"

Radar lifted a brow confusedly. "I was talking about that creepy mannequin. It's really freaking me out."

"What?"

"Nothing. Continue."

"As I was saying, I'm tired of having to put up with these reckless hooligans every year! Even in the wake of the Spaghetti-Bomb Accident, they keep pairing me up with them!"

"So, you want to be put in a different booth?"

"No, this is the most frequented area in the city, perfect for selling wool! I want _them_ put in a different booth!"

"And I could say the same thing about you!" The leader of the fireworks booth barked aggressively. He walked from behind his booth, his bulky frame tipping over a few empty crates. He towered over Radar by a head and the menacing glare he wore added to his bearish stance. "You think it's fun being held back by you whiney-baby sheep-lovers? The Spaghetti-Bomb Accident, though we prefer the term "Night of the Living Boomtown", was our one chance to show the world how amazing our fireworks are, and I'll say we really blew it." He glared at Radar. "Who're you?"

"Um, my name is Radar." He rambled nervously, forcing himself to stand right where he was and look him in the eye. He'd been brought up to give handshakes to every person he met, but something obvious about his smaller hands compared to this man's beefier ones made him stand stock-still with a rigid fake-grin. "But, it's, um… nice to meet both of you sirs."

"Sir?" The bear roared. Before Radar could flinch, the person snatched him by the front of the shirt so that they were nose to nose. The way his blue tie was snagged made it difficult to breathe or do the thing he'd never wanted to do more in his life: Scream. "I'm a woman." _She_ said. If Radar's eyes had popped before, they were exploding now. Even if his shirt and tie weren't choking him out, he wouldn't have been able to utter a word, only staring back at her with pure disturbance. "Wanna correct yourself, _son_?"

He barely managed to choke out the words, "Nice to meet you, _ma'am_ ," before she shoved him back.

"And, by the way, none of those 'ma'am's or other formalities. The name's Bessie." She said over Radar's loud panting and coughing.

"Um, are you okay? The name's John, by the way." John whispered to Radar. Radar nodded and forced himself to stand straight.

"I'm Radar." He said. Bessie quietly snarled, and John thought it was too awkward for a handshake. "If… anyone would like to tell me about the Spaghetti-Bomb Accident, then—"

"It's called "The Night of the Living Boomtown"!" Bessie angrily corrected. "It was an incredible—"

"—Horrible—"

"— _Incredible_ show of the power of the two best things in the world: Fireworks and food. We called it Dine-a-mite, you know, 'cuz it was TNT with spaghetti. It was supposed to be the biggest, grandest mess this world had ever seen!"

"What do you mean 'supposed to'? It _was_! Listen, Radar, while everyone was gathered around to see the _Spaghetti-Bomb Accident_ , one of the pegs on the rocket broke and it fired right into my booth!"

"Oh my gosh! Did anyone get hurt?" Radar exclaimed as if all this had occurred yesterday and not a legendary three years ago.

"Physically, or _financially_? If 'physically', yes. The whole booth collapsed on me and another seller of mine. I was hospitalized for a week! But, if you meant 'financially, _oh yes_. No one wants to buy a half-burnt blanket, much less a half-burnt blanket with fried spaghetti on it. I lost five-thousand dollars and who knows how many months of work that day!" He said hurtfully. He sent Bessie and her booth a poisonous look. "So now you see why Bessie and her Craziness Union need to go!"

" That's _Fireworks_ Union to you." Bessie hissed.

"Okay, you guys definitely can _not_ be together, that's for sure. So… who wants to move?" He reluctantly asked. Their glares hardened and a lump rose in Radar's throat. "Why don't we let fate choose? Uh," his hand fumbled around in his back pocket until he produced a quarter, holding it up for both of them to see. "Flip a coin?"

"Seems reasonable enough." John said while Bessie grunted. Radar nervously flicked the quarter and it flew right over their heads and landed into the nearby garden's fountain. He chuckled nervously at Bessie and John before rushing off. On the edge of the fountain sat a red, yellow and blue parrot, cawing idly and enjoying its day. Radar reached into the cool pond water and grabbed a random quarter.

"Stealing! Stealing!" The parrot cawed right into his ear.

"It's not stealing if it's mine." Radar said, forgetting or ignoring that he was talking to a bird.

"Stealing! Stealing!" The bird repeated. Radar ignored it and walked back to where John and Bessie stood. Instead of flipping it the professional way, he underhand-tossed it onto the floor and picked it up.

"Heads!" He announced.

"Well, that's nice to know, but none of us picked." Bessie said. "I pick tails."

"Heads, then." John said. Radar tossed the quarter again and picked it up. "After it falls you have to flip it onto the back of your hand, Radar." John said before Radar could say who won.

"No, in Boomtown we just pick it up." Bessie argued.

"This is Beacontown. So, heads or tails, Radar?"

"Did you flip it?" Bessie demanded.

"I didn't do anything!" Radar whined. He quickly read the bottom of the coin. "Heads." John gave a loud, haughty laugh.

"You should've taken my advice and flipped it, Bessie!"

Bessie looked surprised at first, but a knowing smirk spread across her face. "Well, John, as you said, we're in Beacontown." Bessie took the quarter from Radar and flipped it onto her hand. "Tails. You walk." She turned around and left, not waiting to hear a response from John.

"She took my quarter." Radar noticed.

"So, you're just letting her walk off? I have to move?!"

"I'm sorry, but I guess so." Radar answered, feeling guilt crawling up his shoulders. It may not have been his fault for having to make John move, but he was the one giving the sad verdict. He silently hoped business went well for John this year. John shrugged bittersweetly and walked back to his booth, probably to pack up and go, Radar supposed. He silently turned to walk off.

"You're going to help me find a different booth, right?" John asked. Radar stopped walking and reluctantly turned around, suddenly aware of the brown to-do book in his back pocket. He'd had two run-ins today that were neither planned nor productive, and he didn't think he had time for three. Taking care of booths was a responsibility, of course, but there were other priorities that needed to be handled. He wasn't a booth-sitter. But he couldn't just leave John booth-less, could he? Jesse wouldn't leave John booth-less.

"Um… sure I am!" _Even though I'm running out of time_ , he thought to himself.

"Great! If you'll just wait for me to tear everything down, we can—"

"Actually, I was thinking we could leave everything here for now, and look for a new place. It'd save me time to get everything else done, and, if we don't find anywhere else, your stuff will still be up." He suggested. John shrugged and walked up to Radar, and they both began walking. In seconds, they found a clear plot between two fruit-booths and Radar felt like someone up there really loved him.

"This spot's perfect! A lot of people walk by here every day, and I'm sure on a busy day like FD, you'd get lots of traffic." Radar advertised. John gave the plot a skeptical look and then shook his head.

"It's too cozied-up between these two booths. Plus, it adds competition; it'll make selling my goods harder."

"But they're fruit booths, and you're selling wool. It's literally comparing apples and parkas."

"Nah. Let's try to find someplace else." He said, walking off. Radar gave the plot a mildly angered look before he followed John down the road. He considered the location of the sun in the sky as they walked, and noted that it was midday. He silently prayed John would settle for a booth soon, as Radar's to-do book was starting to simmer a hole in his pants. They walked until they came to a booth where some sellers seemed to be tearing off the décor.

"Hey, Hadrian, was it?" One of them asked as they passed.

"No, it's Radar," he corrected tersely.

"Right. Sorry. Well, I was just letting you know that me and the guys were tearing down. That shipment of exotic woods isn't coming in anytime soon. So, this is just another spot for anyone needing a booth. We'll even leave up the stand, if you need."

"Well, actually, John here needs a booth." He replied eagerly, hoping John knew just how significant this gift-wrapped booth really was. With the plans already set up, all John needed to do was decorate and set up his wool-products. The lone booth stood in a well-visited area in the town, meaning little competition and plenty of guests. But when he looked at John, that skeptical face had other things to say.

"The sun would be too bright over here. This place is just standing in the middle of town, with no trees at all, and my sellers and parkas would just get baked! Have you seen how pale even the darkest parkas get in direct sunlight? Not to mention, a sweaty customer isn't a happy customer. This place is nice, but it won't do."

Radar fought to stay positive, but his head and the corners of his mouth started to droop. "I wouldn't tear it down, but it's up to you." He said to the booth-owner before he turned to John. "Let's go."

Radar was beginning to wonder who was doing the booth-sitting here. With the way John shot down the last two locations (great locations, in Radar's opinion), Radar could say that John was perfectly capable of finding his own booth. So why was he being dragged along for the useless ride? As he rambled his frustrations in his head, they came upon another place. Radar closely inspected the area. The space was nestled between tall, healthy trees that shielded out the sunlight. There wasn't another booth around to steal competition, not even a fruit booth. But he didn't even bother pointing it out. John would have something to say about it. Wouldn't he? Radar glanced at John, but what he saw surprised him.

John gazed dreamily at the Utopia of a booth, a wide smile plastered across his face. "This place is amazing! It looks so… natural! I love the way the trees grew in, and not to mention, how they shade the area. And look!" He gestured around. "No booths!"

"I know, right?" Radar asked excitedly, relieved that John had found a place that he liked.

"Now, this is a really nice place to set up a booth… but it's pretty far away from everyone. No one would come here. Let's look somewhere else."

"John, I can't come with you this time." Radar stated impatiently. John turned around to face him, surprised at Radar's sudden change in attitude. "Look, I'm really not trying to be rude, but I have things that I need to do around the city for FD, and I really can't help you look for booths all day."

"But I need help finding the perfect booth! You know where I'm supposed to go and you give the best critique! I mean, what have you been doing all this time?"

"Actually, following you and listening to _your_ critique, which is why I think you don't need me! If anyone knows how to find a good booth, it's definitely you. You'll do just fine."

John glanced at his side and thought for a few seconds. A smirk gradually crawled across his face and grew into a full smile. "Hey, you're right! I don't know why I didn't see it before."

"Nor do I." Radar said as politely as he could. "Well, I've gotta go. Good luck finding that booth."

"Thanks, Radar! I'll see you later today."

"Hopefully not." Radar mumbled under his breath as he continued walking. He pulled out his book and licked his thumb to turn some pages. He tried to be grateful that he hadn't spent _so_ much time helping out John or Bessie, but his list wasn't comforting at all, nor was the time-limit. He picked something easy off his to-do list and went on to do that.

Picking a pig to play as Reuben. How hard could it be?

* * *

 **Thanks for reading this, guys! And thanks for reviewing, too. They make putting stuff out for you guys even more fun! I hope you enjoyed Radar's adventures today, and I can't wait to tell you about the rest! Stay tuned for the Slime Incident! It's going to be at the end of the story as a grand finale. You'll love it!**

 **Also, I'm kind of contemplating changing the title of this story. How does "Shake Those Hustlesticks, Radar!" sound to you? Well, I'll see you next time. Goodbye, Continents. Close it, Crisper.**

 **Crisper: (closes it)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys, and welcome back to "Shake a Leg, Radar!" (whose name won't be changing anytime soon). So far, the story's doing pretty good, and after just two chapters you've given me 15 reviews, 5 favs and 4 follows! Thanks! Your support really makes the writing process more enjoyable, like a puppy treat being given to a young puppy for doing a fun trick! That sounded way better in my head, but who cares?! Let's get onto those reviews!**

 **Miragold123: You guys were so lucky you seemed to get episode 3 early. For me, it came in on the 18** **th** **, not the 17** **th** **. Maybe it's a time-zone thing, but I'm just glad it came in. And for people thinking you look insane, have you tried the paper-bag-with-the-neutral-face-on-it trick yet? It's very effective, as long as you don't start laughing and clapping like a seal! That actually looks worse. xD**

 **EmLee: I know, right? You'd think they'd be a bit more independent….**

 **Toni42: Thanks! I'm glad you and everyone liked the "Jesse's dying" gag. I had fun writing the emotional-scene with that woman, too. Well, I hope you enjoy what happens with the pigs today.**

 **Alice Forshadow: You have no idea. ;)**

 **KrazyKat: I used to ship Radar with Olivia, but that died at a very high speed~! Actually, I don't ship him with anyone, really, but if I had to choose, I'd ship him with Stella, and I dare you to ask 'why' (but maybe don't? xD). Also, in another review, you told me that reading was difficult. I hope reading this isn't too hard on you, but if it is, keep trying! Reading things that you love like fanfiction make it less of a struggle because you're really willing to do it, and hopefully then, reading other things will be less hard on you. Stay strong!**

 **Watcher321: Glad you like it! This is going to sound really weird, but I remember you: You reviewed the first edition of my story "Minecraft: Ocelot Mode". I know, I'm such a stalker, but actually, I just have an impeccable memory, and I want to give you a heads up: If you're reading the new edition of Ocelot Mode, I'm planning on updating that soon, so… yeah! Thanks!**

 **On another note, has anyone seen episode 3? Prison Radar is my hero! He's so cute and inspiring and I like him and—I mean… whatever, man. He's legit and stuff, but whatever. Gotta be tough, you know? *snickers like a dork who constantly asks herself "What Would Mommy Do?"*. Hit it, Crisper!**

 **Crisper: No! Deal with it! *snickers like a dork who has a lifetime 8:30 bedtime***

 **Me: Przzn Lyfe! *snickers like a dork who doesn't drink soda because it's unhealthy***

 **Crisper: *snickers like a dork who thinks 'hell's a strong curse* (hits it)**

 ***everyone's a dork on the inside***

* * *

Radar kept a close lookout for Bob as he walked through the city. From what he'd been told, the pig farmer was supposed to be bringing a few of his best pigs, the crème of his crop. He tried to remember what Bob looked like as he skimmed the crowd for the unfamiliar face. He'd only met Bob the day before and had a faint memory of yellow hair, blue eyes maybe? The stress came in the challenge of looking for a particular face while at the same time not seeming like he was staring at someone, a challenge that made him feel just a bit sweaty.

But as he looked around, something bright-red flew directly in front of him. He flinched, jumping back just enough to see that it was a parrot. The bird screeched loudly as it flew closer and closer to Radar's face as he backed up, like a needy craftsman haggling an unsuspecting tourist. Too afraid to think about turning around and running off, Radar suddenly froze in his spot, squealing in terror through pursed lips and shielding his face with his arm. The bird's clattery song came to literally screeching halt as it landed on Radar's arm. The feeling of its spindly fingers and sharp claws barely squeezing his arm made Radar feel somewhat nauseous. He barely opened one eye. "Go away! Shoo! What do you want with me?" He whimpered.

"Stealing! Stealing!" The parrot blared. The two words made Radar face the parrot full-on with a shocked, annoyed glare. But before he could start arguing with the parrot over the ethics of wishing wells, the parrot snatched Radar's glasses off his face in one simple peck.

"Hey! Gimme those!" The bird quickly fluttered off before Radar could snatch at its long tail feathers. "Now, _that right there_ is stealing, you, feathery hypocrite!" He yelled as he ran blindly after it. Quite blindly.

"It's not stealing if it's mine!" It cawed, mocking Radar's earlier words. The literal blur of red got smaller and fluffier until it finally disappeared into the blue, cloudless sky, and Radar panted as he stumbled to a stop. Glaring into the sky and panting, he was angry and tired as a wolf with no meal after a long, hard chase. But when he leveled his head and looked around, he was more like a frantic puppy in the middle of a huge, fuzzy parade.

"Oh, crap." Besides the blurriness, he could still make out the various forms of different people and buildings, but faces, words and any other details were unrecognizable. He felt more aimless than before, and spotting Bob's face in a crowd was going to be more like making a cake rather than simply cutting out a piece. Maybe he'd written something about Bob in his to-do book, something about where they'd be meeting, but when he hopefully pulled out the leather-bound sheets and opened them he groaned in frustration. If it was the faraway face of a citizen walking by, or the pages of his to-do book pressed up to his nose, his eyes wouldn't register what he saw. He persisted in squinting at the blur-o-glyphics before someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir," Radar turned and squinted at the presumably friendly face. "Why are you reading that book so closely? You could get eyestrain and wind up in glasses if you're not careful." Radar bit his tongue and tried not to glare, but his brows furrowed the slightest bit and he stared through cut eyes, wondering how Jesse was able to put up with people like this. "I know, I know, that was a little intrusive and none of my business," the blob moved a blurry hand behind his neck, "but, I mean, just gotta keep a friend from going blind."

Radar forced himself to chuckle at the dry joke. "Um, yeah, I already _have_ glasses, but… I lost them." The story of "the craziest thing" happening wasn't going to do Radar well at this point. He sheepishly rubbed his to-do book as the blob faced in his general direction.

"You… need a hand, er, an eye? I'm a pretty good reader."

"Yeah, thanks." He rubbed his neck. He opened the book and tried to remember the basic spot where the information about Bob would've been, and then reluctantly handed the book over. "Somewhere around there should be something about a guy named Bob and his pigs."

"Gee, are you left-handed or something? Your handwriting's so ugly!" Radar pursed his lips. He was right-handed, but like a lot of things that didn't matter.

"You can understand it, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He fluttered through a few more pages. "Ah! Here it is: Remind Jesse to meet Bob and pick a pig to play as Reuben."

"Does it say anything about a where?"

"Nope, nothing." He glanced at the book's pages and then Radar again, then back at the book to read a bit more as a smile spread across his face. "Hey, I _knew_ I saw you somewhere before. You're Jesse's intern Rayanna!"

Radar blinked slowly, hands curling into fists in his pockets as his lips pursed tightly. GPS made sense. Compass made a lot of sense. But in Radar's strong opinion, Rayanna made about as much sense as the reason people loathed Mondays (Radar's favorite day of the week) and was as pleasant as that surprise zombie an unlucky soul encountered in the morning (he'd been that unlucky soul quite a few times). "My name is Radar! Why would I be called Rayanna? Rayanna's a girl's name!"

"Oh, sorry! Geez, no need to get mad. My name's Eli." He extended his hand. Yearning to call him 'Elizabeth' for good measure, but not wanting to cause a fuss, Radar settled for a firm, silent handshake. "Um, so, you're looking for Bob?"

"Yes."

"I actually know him, not personally, but a guy really stands out for bringing three pigs with him wherever he goes. I saw him today, and he might still be around town. He likes to bring his pigs to town a few days before the big day, you know, to get them used to being around so many people. But, anyways, I could take you to him if you want."

"Yes, please. That would be so helpful!" He said gratefully.

"Alright then." Eli firmly took Radar by the forearm, making him squeal in surprise and jerk his arm back.

"What are you doing?!"

"I was taking you to Bob!" He reached out again but Radar safeguarded his arm and glared defensively.

"But why're you trying to grab my arm?"

"Hey!" Someone called from behind, and Eli and Radar both turned to face the person. "You with the book, that guy giving you a problem?"

"Um, no! Thank you, ma'am." The blurry person placed his hands on his hips, and Radar could sense a glare. "My apologies, _sir_." The man calmly left, leaving the two to return to their conversation.

"Look, that guy wasn't standing that far from you, and you couldn't even tell she was a he. You could get lost in a crowd, so I've gotta hold you some kind of way."

"No, you don't. Thanks for the offer, but I think I can manage." Radar knew getting dragged along the road like a blind-man would be a sweat-inducing experience that would forever taint his image of independence.

"Alright, then. Follow me, he should be over here somewhere."

Radar followed close behind Eli and told himself to remember the color of Eli's brown hair and blue-and-white striped shirt. Blurry vision didn't necessarily mean colorless vision, and Radar hoped color would be on his side should he be separated. But Eli, who was so concerned with Radar's wellbeing mere minutes ago, snaked his way through the tightly-knitted crowd at a speed that made even the asset of color useless to Radar, let alone his impaired sight. "Eli! Eli, could you slow down, please? Eli?" When Eli seemed to go even faster, Radar began to feel that this was a petty attempt at revenge for not linking arms, of all reasons. He picked up his speed (of course, within the precious bounds of reason and safety) and tried to focus on the importance of finding Eli, instead of the numerous folks he was knocking into. There would be time for apology later, he hoped. But by now he was getting frantic. Eli was nowhere in sight! His speed rose with his heartbeat but split-seconds fired by before he smashed into someone front-on. He scraped across the ground as he landed and heard the other person and various items clatter to the road. He quickly stood to his feet, rubbing his burning scuffed hands and hissing softly. He looked up and squinted at the mess of fallen bodies and gasped. This time, he knew he had to apologize.

"I am so sorry! Here, let me help you!" He reached for the first hand he saw and gave it a firm pull, producing a yelp of pain from its owner. A split-second's squint and he realized it was someone's foot. He quickly, gently put the foot down and groped around for the hand. When he found it, he pulled the person to his feet and speedily rambled a wordy apology before rushing over to the other fallen person who'd been laying there the whole time, likely stunned from the impact. Radar himself was still a bit fazed at the smashing encounter even though it didn't stop him from doing all he could to make up for it.

He quickly bent down and felt around for the person's hands. "I am so very deeply sorry for this, mister, or miss," he said, pronouncing 'miss' like 'miz', "I'll just help you up, and then—" His hands came into contact with the person's chest and he wrenched them away with a terrified gasp. He froze up and his face twisted into a petrified expression. This was definitely not a man. No doubt about that anymore. "My deepest apologies." He wheezed, his face going firetruck-red. Almost too afraid to move, he very carefully scanned the ground for an arm. He grabbed a cool, stiff hand and pulled the woman to her feet. "My deepest, sincerest, utmost apologies for this severely discomforting chance-encounter, ma'am. There is no excuse for my accidental behavior!" He fought the urge to look away from her, tensing up for the indignant slap to the face he was expecting. But even without the "reprimand" for his actions, his cheeks were on fire and his hands were slippery with sweat.

The sound of amused laughter reached his ears and a reassuring hand squeezed his shoulder, making him turn around to see the man he'd just helped up. "That's a very profuse apology for a mannequin. I'm actually proud."

"A mannequin?!" Radar squinted at the womanly figure standing in front of him and noticed that her entire body was an unnatural shade of white. He cautiously reached out and rubbed a thumb across her glossy, plastic face. Somehow the fact that he didn't have such an embarrassing encounter with a real woman didn't make him feel any less feverish. He slowly turned to the man, his own face a mixture of relief and remorse. "I, um," he glanced once more at the mannequin just to make sure, "I am so sorry for apologizing to your mannequin." When he laughed again, Radar quickly realized his second mistake. He habitually reached to adjust his glasses like he did when he was flustered or nervous, but scratched his brow in their absence and bit his lip.

"Such manners! I'm sure she wants your number now. You weren't seriously apologizing to a mannequin, were you?"

"Of course, not!" He scratched the back of his neck as he made eye-contact. "I'm just missing a pair of glasses and can't see past my nose." He added casually. "Um, have you seen a guy with a white shirt and brown—"

"Radar!" Eli rushed onto the scene like a mother being reunited with a lost child at the mall, except this "lost child" felt like his mother had purposely misplaced him. "I found Bob, but what happened to you back there?"

"What happened to _me?_ What happened to _you_?"

"This your guy?" The man's joke flew right over the Radar's and Eli's hot-heads.

"I called you five times, and you just went even faster!"

"You said you could manage."

"Yes. I can manage. But not if you're running seventy-five chunks an hour through a busy crowd! I knocked him over trying to find you! I even had to apologize to his mannequin!"

"You apologized to a mannequin? You know, they don't have feelings."

"Yeah, he thought it was a woman when he got a hold of—"

"Yes, and it was very funny but no one cares, so let's stop talking about it. Could we please just walk this time?" Radar rambled, wanting to forget the embarrassing moment forever. Eli hummed in thought.

"Walking… I mean, I'm not gonna lie, that sounds like a great idea, Ricky—"

"—Radar—"

"—That's what I said, Radar. Anyways, walking is a great idea, but there's just one problem."

"What?"

"I don't do walking, and don't ask about speed-walking, either. That's like drinking tea instead of coffee, if you ask me." Radar hadn't asked, nor did he care about a coffee-analogy.

"Why can't you walk?"

"It's just not my thing."

Radar paused and squinted, and not because he was having a hard time seeing. He was having a hard time believing. "That's it?"

"Yep."

"Okay, okay. I can work with that. How about you run and grab Bob, wherever you said he is, and bring him back over here?" Eli brought a blurry hand to his chin and softly hummed as he considered the idea. Radar absent-mindedly moved a hand to his wristwatch, feeling time running out on him, though nowhere as near as fast as Eli ran.

"Once again, that's a good idea." Radar grinned. "But…." His grin dropped. "I just don't feel like rushing over there and then back over here. It's just too much work, you know? I'm a one-trip man, and since _you_ were too slow last time, this trip makes two. I'm definitely not doing four. It's just a fact of life, buddy."

"Fact of life, my butt." Radar hissed silently under his breath. After a few seconds' deep thought, Radar reluctantly held out his arm and Eli stared at it with slight confusion. "Would you please take me to Bob?" He forced himself to ask.

"You're not going to scream again if I grab your arm, are you?"

"Could we please just go? I have to get a lot of things done by sundown, and this has been a huge waste of time."

"Alright, alright. No need to get angry." Radar still flinched when Eli grabbed his arm and pulled it under his so that their arms were interlocked.

"Please don't go too fast." He whimpered, his anxiety and timidity suddenly resurfacing.

"Just run. You don't need to worry about tripping over anything or falling, I've got 'cha."

"How fast should I—" Radar yelped when Eli unexpectedly took off at a speed Radar knew from the start he couldn't match. Eli's speed was just as impossible as his overall personality and by the first twenty seconds, Radar's lungs and legs were burning. Being skinnier than most did not mean he was magically fit and could run as fast as a terrified ocelot on caffeine.

"Eli! Please slow down!" He panted.

"Can't! Bob might walk off and then we'd lose him for good." His point was as sharp as the rapidly increasing pain in his feet. The walk that should've taken them five minutes was finished in one and a half and ended with a stop so abrupt it almost sent Radar flying five feet from the destination. Eli watched Radar with confusion as the intern panted and coughed loudly, doubled over at the waist and hands nearly sliding off his knees. A pink blur waddled into Radar's view and oinked softly before rubbing his wet nose against his blue jeans, but Radar was too tired to notice how adorable it looked, as if he could see it clearly. His weary panting and gasping slowly dragged to a stop as he straightened and saw Bob standing patiently. "Well, here's Bob." Eli motioned to Bob.

"Hello, Bob. You may or may not remember me, but you and Jesse met yesterday while I stood close-by. I'm with Jesse, by the way, as his intern." He held out his hand and waited. And waited a bit more.

"Is he okay?" The other man, presumably Bob, asked.

"Gimme a second." Radar felt someone, likely Eli, move beside him and two gentle hands rested on his shoulder. Eli squeezed softly as he turned Radar around to face Bob. Bob accepted Radar's handshake with a firm hand of his own.

"I do remember you, but where's Jesse? Oh dear! I am so sorry!"

"Sorry about what?"

"Jesse. I heard he was, um," he hesitated and frowned, "dying."

"Jesse's not dying, Bob. I don't know who keeps spreading those rumors around. He's just got a head cold."

"Well, thank goodness! Is he going to be alright for FD?"

"Only time will tell. But, in the meanwhile, I heard you needed him to pick a pig to play as Reuben on the float? I know that you'd agreed to have _Jesse_ pick the pig, but since he might not be able to, I was wondering if you wanted me to do it?" The confidence drained from his voice with each passing word, and by the time the sentence was complete, Radar felt he'd crossed more boundaries than twenty. But the thoughtful look on Bob's face let him feel a glimmer of relief.

"Hmm…." Radar waited timidly, avoiding eye-contact. "Well, you _are_ Jesse's assistant, and you have been spending a lot of time together, too. If anyone should know which pig to pick, you'd come very close in second," he quickly grazed Radar with a knowledgeable eye, liking what he saw. "Alrighty, then! And a day early, too. Come here, piggies!" A few blurry, pink blobs waddled to Bob's side, one of them giving Radar's leg a curious nudge before doing so. The butterflies in Radar's stomach fluttered to life when he realized he was still without his glasses, something that should've been at the forefront of his mind. He'd been so engrossed with the task of judging the pigs he'd almost completely forgotten about his major setback! "As you could probably tell, these are three of my very best pigs. Here, we have beautiful Esteban with his freshly-polished hooves." Radar squinted at said hooves. "This chubby little-guy's my Smushy Cutecheeks. Isn't he the cutest? But, if it's the strong, regal side of Reuben we want to be representing, I'd suggest Lord von Thunderpork the Sixth. So, which would you… um…." Bob's voice trailed off.

"Hmm?" Radar looked up, straining to get a clear image of Bob's face.

"You, uh… you look a little angry there. Is everything okay?"

"Angry?" He realized how hardly he was squinting and quickly softened his face into a friendly smile. "Oh, no! I'm just having a," Eli's obnoxious snickering caught their attention.

"Eli, what's so funny?" Radar asked. Eli just chuckled and shook his head, waving Radar off to continue the conversation. "Alright, then. I'm not angry at all, Bob. It's just," his eyes fell to the pigs who snorted and oinked absent-mindedly and his brows furrowed.

"Is there something wrong with them?" There was a hint of offense in Bob's tense voice. "Not pink enough? Cute enough? Reuben-y enough?"

"No! No, I'm very much sure they're perfectly fine and well. It's just… um… you see, I can't see."

"You're blind?"

"Mostly." Eli joked.

"Why are you here to _look_ at pigs if you're blind?"

"I'm not "blind"-blind. It's just everything's super blurry without my glasses."

"He apologized to a mannequin because he touched her boobs and thought she was a real woman."

Radar turned and glared at Eli, hands on his hips. "Eli, don't you have something to do?"

"Nope. The only thing I have is time to kill, and this is a great time-killer, if you ask me." Bob suddenly cleared his throat, and Radar turned to face him, trying to shove Eli out of his head.

"Will you still be able to judge the pigs? I'm sure I could wait 'till tomorrow, but—"

"No, it's alright! I can definitely get that done for you today. I'll see to it that it's done now."

"Or will you?"

Radar ignored Eli and bent to look at the pigs. He could barely make out big, black eyes gazing curiously at him. He reached out to rub one of their peach-fuzzed heads, but was met with a slimy nose when it decided to sniff his hand, a surprise that he gladly welcomed. "They're all so cute! I almost don't know which one to pick."

"How do you know they're cute if you can't see anything?"

Radar's nose twitched angrily and his brows furrowed. "I can see them, Eli. Would you please be quiet?"

"Sorry, I don't do quiet, either."

The sudden rush of adrenaline made Radar's hands tremble slightly, but he forced himself to focus on the pigs. "You know, I think this pig will do. Who's this, again?"

"That's Smushy, Smushy Cutecheeks."

"Yeah, I like his fuzz. It feels nice, friendly, approachable… kind of like I've heard Reuben was." Radar looked from Smushy to Bob and grinned.

"Very good choice, Ransom."

"Yeah, it's actually 'Radar', but I accept the compliment."

"Right. Well, I'll see you at FD in a couple days. Come on, boys." Bob started to walk off and clicked his tongue, signaling his three pigs to follow behind.

"Couple of days?" Radar stood to his feet, brows wrinkled in thought. Founding Day was tomorrow. His thoughtful face slowly melted into an irritated stare at the sound of feet shuffling behind him. He could feel Eli standing behind him with nothing to do but bother him. But he didn't care to turn around and address his immature behavior. There was still so much to do! He whipped out his to-do book, opened it and stifled a groan. If he could see well enough to write, "Find Glasses" would be hastily scribbled at the top of the list.

Eli walked beside him and leaned into his ear. "Need help?"

"No, thank you." He shut his book and roughly jammed it into his pocket before he strutted off.

If he had his glasses or wasn't so engrossed in his indignation, he'd have been able to see Eli following close behind.

 ***Enemy Approaching!* An Eli pops out of the blurry blue.**

 **And there you have it, my dudes! Capitulo tres (chapter three, for you monolinguals out there)! How'd you like it? My favorite part to write was the mannequin scene. Sometimes when I get writer's block, I literally write whatever comes to mind. So, I got to him knocking over the people, and then out came "Add mannequins, Gamer! They're all the rage!" and I said "Okay, Voice-In-My-Head-That-Helps-Me-Write!". But how is Radar going to get things done with Eli following him around? I sure hope he's not going to be a huge problem for the little guy….**

 **So, about that creative line about the parrot approaching Radar "like a needy craftsman haggling with an unsuspecting tourist"… did I tell you 'bout the time I was stalked in Mexico? You're not supposed to feed the animals, but no one told me I wasn't supposed to inquire the craftsmen! That sounds like a t-shirt idea, actually. Don't Inquire the Craftsmen. Don't Inquire the Fangirls. Don't Upset the Delicate Balance of the Mushroom. There was a craftsman selling some necklaces I thought I might've liked, so I asked him how much they cost. He named a price that I thought was too high (I'm too anxious to spend money), and so began the vicious "name your price" cycle. I didn't wanna degrade his art, and nor did the adult with me (imagine repainting the Mona Lisa and someone says, "Good job! How's fifty cents?"), so we said "Wait here, we'll consult our guide." Awkward story comfy, he didn't get the "wait here" part. At friggin' all. At frigging all. I mean, it wasn't traumatizing or anything, and I knew he didn't want to hurt me, but it was still extremely uncomfortable having him follow me all the way back to my group, and then stand in the distance staring at me as I tried to ignore him. The more I think/write about it, the more I cringe. So, that's what inspired the line. Little Easter Egg, if you will.**

 **On another note, I just finished up some Radar inspired fanart. I call it "He Needs Love and Coffee", and you can see it here:**

 **https**

 **:/plus.**

 **google.**

 **com/b/115421839618631646502/photos/photo/115421839618631646502/6475783435240429810?icm=false &iso=true&authkey=CNOYrePto5-8Vg**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, guys, and welcome back to SaLR, last updated in October 2017. I hope three months hasn't been too long for you guys to come back. But as a quick recap, in our last chapter Radar… uh… Crisper, what was he doing again?**

 **Crisper: (reading a celebrity magazine about Petra) I don't even remember. It's been so long!**

 **Right, right (rereads all drafts, outlines and published chapters). Aha! In the last chapter, a furry, fiendish parrot decided to teach Radar a lesson by stealing his glasses. The intern blindly stumbled into tricky personality Eli, who's causing more harm than good in the name of 'helping out'. After a literal drag-race through town, a fervent apology to a mannequin and a pig judging that surprisingly** _ **didn't**_ **end in a catastrophe (or a pig-tastrohpe), Radar split paths with Eli and will never see him again… or so he hoped. And welcome to the present!**

 **I'll go ahead and respond to reviews later, but for now HIT IT, CRISPER!**

 **Crisper: Hey, Gamer, did you know Petra and Axel are dating? It says so right here!**

 **Don't listen to anything in there! Those magazines are full of glorified lies, even more lies and above all, ships that will never be real!**

 **Crisper: And yours aren't?**

… **!**

 **Crisper: That's what I thought. (hits it)**

 **(hits him)**

* * *

Eli had sucked his share of time and life out of Radar, and now the intern roamed the streets of Beacontown in peace, or silence at least. He needed to find his glasses, however he was going to do that. But whether he had 20/20 vision or couldn't see a lick (and he couldn't), he vowed he wasn't going to waste another lick of time, for Eli or anyone! Fooling around instead of preparing for a day as important as Founding Day could have explosive consequences. He could smell the sulfur already.

He stopped in his tracks. He sniffed the air and frowned. "That's not in my imagination." He yelled out when two hands latched onto his shoulders and spun him around.

"No need to scream, little guy. I won't blow you up or hurt you, I promise!" The stench of sulfur made him choke and cough a little bit. He didn't need to squint to see the woman with blue hair, not that his vision improved. Making out a face is easy when it's just inches from yours. "You're Jesse's intern, right?"

"Yeah, that's me." Her eyes drilled into his, only stopping to look him over. He could feel her rhythmically squeezing his arms, feeling them.

"Man, you've got some skinny arms! Do you drink milk?"

His cheeks warmed. "My arms are _not_ skinny, and I think that's just plain rude. I'm just very lean, that's all."

"Right…." She roughly pushed him back. "Well, I'm Nohr, Ambassador of the lovely country of Boomtown." She seized his hand and thoroughly joggled it. Radar pulled his arm back before she could yank it off. "I'm here to request permission to give," she held her chin high and puffed her chest, "a speech."

"A speech?"

"A speech!" She blurted.

He squinted and rubbed his ears. "I heard you the first time, ma'am."

"Then why'd you say 'a speech' like you didn't—Oh! Now, I get it. Nevermind, then."

Radar rubbed his neck. "Um, what's your speech about?"

"Well," she wrangled his neck and strolled into the city, completely oblivious to his struggle to free himself from her brawny arms, "as a griefer, I've experienced secondhand the harsh results of stereotyping. Terrible stuff. Makes you wanna slap your daddy, if you had one. I don't, but I'm cool with that. Said he'd come home one night, we found his brains splattered all over the place the next day. He apparently had a run in with someone, but we're still not sure who and nobody really cares. Circle o' life."

Radar froze "Oh, wow."

"I know, right? Well, back to the subject, everywhere griefers go, we're seen as bald-headed Creepers looking for something nice to destroy. Truth is? Most of us are! I think we should be allowed to be proud of our affinity for all things explosive, the same way politicians feel proud about lying to the public!"

"Really…." Radar said, scratching his neck.

"Really! Griefing is looked down on as a shameful, harmful activity, when in reality it's quite therapeutic. I'm sure somewhere someone's proved that by now… Like King Axel!" She balled her hands into fists. "Oh, if you were here, I'd thank you, and blast you to smithereens, taking my rightful place as Queen of Boomtown!"

"Whoa, whoa! Isn't that a little harsh?"

"Not at all, and that is exactly the mentality that's fueled me to do this! I was just thinking the other day. What if there was something I could do to make people appreciate us more?" They stopped by a tree and she finally loosed him. Radar massaged his neck while she continued. "It took a while, but I finally asked myself, 'Nohr, where _exactly_ do you see yourself in ten years'?"

"Uh-huh."

"And then I said, 'Self, I have no freakin' clue,', and then I said, 'That's alright, just thought I'd ask and make sure'. After that, I got into this weird conversation with myself about the meaning of life, and I still haven't found it! But that's besides the fact. What matters is this: TNT to the face and a shovel to the butt isn't gonna get us the social equality we deserve."

Radar raised a brow. "That is… um, shockingly astute."

"Why thank you, you're not so astute yourself." She dipped elegantly with a friendly smile. Radar pursed his lips, wondering if she said what she meant. "If there's one thing that'll guarantee us a spot in society, it's a riveting speech!" She latched onto his shoulder and pulled him close. Radar held his breath. "Think about it, people like two things in this world: Crying, and listening to things that make them cry. It inspired me to handcraft this amazing speech on Boomtown ethics," she whipped a cluster of paper from out of nowhere and gently laid it in Radar's hand. "Maybe we'll never see eye-to-eye, but when people see the real benefits of griefing, they'll be happy to let us do our thing!"

Radar skimmed over the blurry sheet, biting his lip. He imagined what this would mean for Beacontown, and fought back a shudder. "Well, it seems… interesting," his grip tightened on the paper as he forced a smile her way, "but I'll have to take it up with Jesse. We've got a lot of stuff already planned, and this seems like a last-minute adjustment, but! I could put a reminder in my book and ask him when he feels better."

"Wait, Jesse's alive? When I came in here, everyone was telling me that—"

"Just don't listen to them. Jesse's going to be fine and well." He pulled his notebook and quill out of his inventory, just to sigh again.

"I can help with that." Eli's voice made Radar jump and nearly drop his book. He spun around and glared.

"You!" He shoved a finger at him.

"Wait, you mean you didn't see him following you or standing behind you this whole time?" Nohr tilted her head and pointed Eli's way.

"Actually, he can't see me or you or anyone, for that matter."

"Eli! You were following me?" Radar bent at the waist and put his hands on his hips, habitually driving a finger up the bridge of his nose to push up his absent glasses.

"Huh, I kinda thought he was your helper or something."

"Well, he's not." He turned and thrust a finger at Eli. "You're not! And you should really leave me alone, because I have very important things to do, and I can't keep getting sidetracked by you!"

Eli bobbed his head up and down. "Right, right. Of course. Nohr," he nodded your way, "I think he was about to write something down for you." He gestured dramatically towards Radar and reeled back. Nohr folded her arms and grinned. Radar chuckled heartlessly, returning his attention to his book. He could feel Eli looming over him, anticipating his surrender. Radar pressed the quill to the paper.

"And, what was your name again?"

"Nohr." He scribbled his best. "I wanted to do a speech during the FD parade."

"Speech… during… parade… got it! Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a little chat with someone."

"Alright, then, I'll get back with you later, skinny!"

"That's lean, thank you." He called after her. When she left, he turned to face Eli, eyebrows low and arms folded. "What do you want with me?"

"Hmm?"

"You heard me! You've been bothering me all day, and now you're stalking me. Why?"

"Just making sure you don't need any more help, that's all. From what I've seen, you can't see at all." He smirked.

Radar licked his lips and clasped his hands together. "Well, I appreciate the thought behind it, but the actions? Not so much." His foot tapped.

Eli ran a hand through his hair and down his neck, clicking his tongue. "Alright, alright. I understand we probably got off to a rough start—"

"— _Probably!_ "

"So, why don't we start over again?" He took a step back and straightened his shirt. Radar tapped at his folded arms. "Hi, I'm Eli." He held out his hand. Radar inhaled and shook it.

"I'm Radar, and I don't need your help, so please leave me alone." He spun around and left before Eli could get another word out. Peace at last, but a peace that dissolved with the shuffling of footsteps behind him.

"Come on, you know you're going to need my help some time or another."

"Why are you so concerned about me needing help? Don't you have things to do?"

"Well, kind of? But, you know, when I see someone who needs help, I just can't help but… help, you know?"

Radar scoffed. "Insulting me in front of everyone I talk to and letting the world know how desperately I need my glasses back isn't very helpful." His legs pumped, his heart thudded, and his hands balled into fists as he tried to put some road between him and Eli.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, alright? Uh… Radar!" Radar stopped in his tracks and turned around, a squinting glare on his face.

"Did I get your name right, this time 'round?"

"Yes."

"Look, I know you're busy with this whole planning Founding Day, but you can't deny you need some help with it, being mostly blind and all. I know, I know," he looked at his feet, "we don't agree on what 'helping' is, but if you'll just give me a chance maybe, you know. I could actually be useful, maybe?" Radar's brows furrowed. "You tell me what to do, I'll do it, from now on, and I'll try to be nicer about it, too. Quieter, much quieter." His folded arms fell to his side and he studied Eli closely. He looked different in this new light, seeming oddly familiar.

"You want to help?"

"Yeah."

"Leave me alone, then." And he walked off.

* * *

 **Weird ending, huh? Writing this made me feel like, 'Gee, this guy must hate his job sometimes.' But that is a story for another time….**

 **Well, I'm sleepy, but I'm still eager to get to those reviews!**

 **Watcher321: I should probably update that soon, shouldn't I?**

 **Toni42: Very true. Eli's a strange, yet interesting character who decided to walk into this story. We'll see how it goes.**

 **Alice Foreshadow: Very true.**

 **NoItsBecky: Might I also mention how pure he is? This story may be rough on him, but I vow to give him the ending he so rightly deserves!**

 **KrazyKat: *so tempted to say 'lol idek'* I just have my headcanons, I guess. There really isn't a reason they'd be a romantic couple or exes in-game, but if we left it at 'we shouldn't do anything because it's not canon', what's the point of fanfiction? I guess I just felt like I** _ **had**_ **to ship him with someone, and Stella seemed the right option. You know, Radar probably used to idolize Stella. Maybe when he was still in the "Oh my gosh, my hero likes me and she's perfect!", he ignored some of her worse traits and started to bond with her. But when her ugly side showed, the relationship soured. Anyways, that's my take on it.**

 **Raintag: Well, thank goodness he didn't. I'm a really anxious person, and when I started thinking he was gonna turn, it was all I could think about. I felt a lot better around the middle of season 2 when it was too late for a huge change like that, but leading up to episode 5 I was so scared Telltale was going to do away with him. This sounds kinda weird, but I couldn't really handle Reuben's death very well. I really, legitimately wasn't sure how I would feel if Radar died. #TheFeelsAre4Real**

 **Well, goodnight, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this update! Close it, Crisper!**

 **Crisper: (closes it)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Welcome to chapter five of SaLR! I was so glad to see the love it was getting, even after being left idle for so long. Bottom line is this: Radar's legs are a'shakin', and you're lovin' it!**

 **Crisper: Uh, yeah, I'm sure that phrase is already used by a major french-fry entity.**

 **Oh, Crisper, you're a drawer used to keep veggies and fruit fresh.**

 **Crisper: what.**

 **REVIEWS!**

 **ItzJaiden: You really like this story that much? Thank you! Also, very weird response from Radar. You think he'd be nicer. I wonder if something's up.**

 **Toni42: I immediately recognized her in E1S2, when Radar talked about the delegate of Boomtown. Got excited just hearing her name. When I was writing this, I wondered 'hmm, what went down with that, anyways?', so I added it in! Glad you liked it. As far as Eli seeming 'oddly familiar' to Radar, maybe we'll be able to get a better look into that….**

 **TealEmpress: Glad you liked her so much. This is kind of a continuation of the previous RR, but as I was writing Nohr, I wanted to really give a reason for Radar to later tell Jesse she was 'very odd'. It wasn't too hard, but I'm just glad she didn't turn out a cliched griefer-character. Once again, though, that was a strange reaction from Radar, just when you might've thought he was getting it. Maybe he'll learn soon….**

 **Alice Forshadow: I can't go back and check for myself (50% grounded, here), but when you said you wrote a bunch of sad fics for Lizzie, I think I remembered something: weren't you the one who'd wrote that fanfic with the letters to Stacy? Forgive me if I'm wrong. I have a hazy memory of the story, but I just thought I'd ask.**

 **Watcher321: Even smol beans have their bad days.**

 **NoItsBecky: Hey, girl! Long time no see! Guess we could also say the same about Prison Radar. Speaking of which….**

 _ **I guess I forgot to tell you I snuck a Capri-sun behind my mom's back.**_

 **!THUG** **LYFE!**

 **HYT YT, CRYSPR**

 **Crisper: (rolls eyes and hits it)**

* * *

"You want to help?"

"Yeah."

"Leave me alone, then." Radar turned to leave.

"Wait, what? No, I don't think you understand that—"

"I can't talk to you anymore, Eli. Founding Day's tomorrow, and I can't waste anymore time." He walked straight ahead. He didn't see the confused look on Eli's face.

"But, Radar, that's not—" Eli's voice faded with the distance.

Radar listened closely for extra footsteps, but didn't hear any. Leaving that annoyance behind was the right thing to do, for himself and for Beacontown. He didn't need Eli, not even for writing in his book. He was sure he remembered everything he was supposed to do. He knew he'd likely have a new pair of glasses by tomorrow. Maybe there was enough time tomorrow for last minute remembrances. Everything was finally starting to go right.

But why did he feel like he was missing something? His schedule horridly neglected, he had plenty of reasons to feel that way, but this felt deeper than a few undone activities, or even a lot. He couldn't shake that weird feeling, gazing at Eli as he made his final plea. What did he see in him, besides an annoyance and a setback? It was something so familiar and so close to him he couldn't put his finger on it. But it would just have to wait. There was work to be done, people to be helped, and checkboxes to be checked… if he could see them. Which he could! He didn't need any help at all, especially not from that troublemaker.

"Hey, Randy! Hello!" A blur of yellow walked up to him, accompanied by a white one. The closer the figure got, the better he could see the blue and white stripes on her shirt.

"His name is 'Ralph', Stampy… wasn't it?"

"No, it's Radar." Why was that so hard for everyone? He'd forgotten to thank Nohr for getting it right, but she _had_ called him skinny.

"Sorry about that, then." Stampy said. "Have you seen Jesse anywhere? We've been looking all over for him."

"Oh, yeah. He caught a head-cold, right before the big day."

"Aww, man." Stacy said. "Oh well, Stamps. There's always tomorrow."

"Actually, you know what? Jesse told me to fill in for him today, so, anything I can do to help?"

"Absolutely!" Stampy's voice made Radar flinch. "Stacy here," he jabbed a thumb and a disgusted look her way, "wants to make pie to give away at FD. We've been arguing all day, but she still hasn't gotten it through her head that cake is the perfect treat for—"

"Stampy's just close-minded to the idea that maybe cake isn't the end all, be all of desserts."

"I don't think it's the end all, be all of desserts, Stace. It's the end all, be all of everything, obviously. I have it for breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner _and_ dessert, so who's close-minded now?" He put his hands on his hips.

"Only a close-minded cake-fanatic would eat cake every single day."

"Says the girl who eats pie every meal every day."

"Stampy, I don't." They both faced Radar's direction, and he knew he'd been enlisted in the war. "So, what do you think? Delicious pie or… _cake_?"

"Stop saying it like that! You make it sound like a disease!" Stampy yelled, getting into her face.

Radar quickly separated the two before a fight could break out. "Whoa! Calm down. Surely there's a way to solve this without a big fight."

Stampy sneered at Stacy. "He's right." He leaned over to Radar and whispered. "You really are taking after Jesse."

Radar felt his cheeks tinge. "You really think so?"

"Flattery, it's his last resort." Stacy said, pulling some wheat out of her pockets.

Radar frowned. "You mean you don't think I'm taking after Jesse?"

"Oh, of course you are. In fact, I'm depending on it. Here," she handed him wheat, some pumpkins, sugar and eggs, "do what you know Jesse would do."

"Wait!" Stampy added some milk to the batch, staring daggers at Stacy. "You'll need milk to make a cake, because that _is_ what you have in mind, right?"

"No, he's making pie!" With that, she added another pumpkin to the growing stack. Radar felt himself starting to topple under the growing weight. He walked off before they could worsen his burden.

"Make the right de—"

"—Do what Jesse would do!"

"I believe in—"

"Cake, Radar, cake!"

Radar felt his way around various blocks (thank goodness there were no cacti in Beacontown) before he could find a crafting-grid. He put down a few ingredients down and lifted it proudly for the world to see. Little footsteps clicked behind him, and a small hand tugged on his green hoodie. He turned around.

"Excuse me, mister, why do you need a shovel?"

A shovel? Radar gave his 'cake' a double-take and sighed wearily. "I don't even know, kid."

"Can I have it?"

"Do you have a digging permit?" The child stared at him and moved a hand to his face, keeping it there a few seconds. Radar cringed. Was this kid picking his nose?

"What's a digging permit? And why are you squinting like that?"

"Because I can barely see."

"Well, how do you know I'm here?"

"Because I can kind of see you."

"Okay." Radar watched this kid a few seconds more. He finally pulled his hand away from his face. "Hey! I got a booger on my finger! Can you see the booger on my finger, too?"

"Well, that's not very nice! Here, take this and go, but don't make a mess." He dropped the shovel in the child's hand. After shrieking in a horrendous fit of excitement, he ran off. Radar shuddered before going back to his crafting. He carefully picked up something round. Was it an egg, or a stone? He squeezed it gently in his hand and it squished and crunched. He groaned as yolk and sticky albumin dripped down his arm. He picked up another one, then some wheat, and finally the sugar.

"Why are you mixing grass and sand with those eggs?" Came the same young voice. Radar breathed harshly through his nose and swept the grid clear, not caring to save that egg. Time to try this again. He picked up an egg. "Do you need some help?"

"No, I'm fine."

"But that's a rock." Radar picked up the 'egg', seeing for the first time how grey it was. "You need help."

"No, I don't, and even if I did, it's not like there's anyone to help me right now. Everyone's busy."

"Well, why don't you ask that guy over there who's been standing at a distance and watching your every move like a stalker? He looks bored over there all by himself."

Radar spun around. "What?!" The kid looked in the direction of the infamous personality, sticking his finger back into his nose.

"The man. Now he's walking over here with a cake and a pie." Radar squinted. Sure enough, Eli was heading his way. This guy didn't let up. "I'm gonna stay over here in case he wants to share, but either way I'm content." Radar caught the boy's hand before he could put it into his mouth.

"Please, don't. And go wash your hands." He walked towards Eli. "Eli, I thought I told you to leave me alone!"

"Yeah, I heard, but I'm not here to bother you. I just thought I'd, y'know, leave these with you." He held out the two treats. "From what I saw, you were gonna be stuck here a little while, wasting eggs, making sand and…." He cleared his throat, "I thought you needed a hand, is what I meant to say."

"Eli, why are you doing this?"

"I told you, I just want to help. It's like this insatiable urge to get things done, y'know?" He ran a hand through his hair. "The goal is to get things done before FD, and if you can't do your job, then we don't reach that goal, is how I see it. So, I want to help, I guess." Eli really did seem familiar this way. The cogs in Radar's brain were starting to turn. Eli sighed heartlessly. "Alright, sorry for stalking you. I guess I'm headed home, so… good luck." He put the goodies into Radar's hands and turned around to leave. There Eli went. All was right in the universe.

But of course, it wasn't. It took him a bit to realize it, but when it hit Radar he knew what he had to do.

"Eli, wait." Eli glanced at Radar over his shoulder. "I think you should stay… help out." Radar knew he was probably making a mistake. But he also knew that Jesse may have very well had the same doubts about _him_ as a helper. The truth was scary, but so enlightening.

"Really? After everything I put you through?" Radar nodded and hummed. "I mean, it was a lot. Like, I dragged you through the city—"

"Yeah, bu—"

"—I made fun of you in front of everyone—"

"Eli,"

"—And I stalked you like a creepy dude, and made you apologize to—"

"Eli, is it alright if you try not to remind me?"

Eli chuckled and rubbed his neck. "Right, sorry."

"It's okay. I mean, I get it, you want to help. Trust me, I know how that feels. I just wish I would've noticed it a lot sooner." He noticed the cake and pies still in his hands. "Well, I guess we should probably hand these to them, and then get back to work?"

"Good plan... thank you."

* * *

 **One word: Deadlines. Had to cut things short, get some stuff done, but at least Radar finally figured it out, right? Well, close it, Crisper!**

 **Crisper: Thank goodness, no more thug life.**

 **CLOZE IT, CRYSPRR!**

 **Crisper: For the love of fudge!** **(CLOZES YT)**


End file.
